


I'll Strike My Own Torch

by Snap_crackle_spock



Series: Bonds Broken [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: I can't believe I actually finished a series that's a first, Set post-Return of the Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22312159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snap_crackle_spock/pseuds/Snap_crackle_spock
Summary: Ahsoka had always been capable.Capable of being a commander of the 501st at 14 years old.Capable of keeping up with Anakin Skywalker, one of the most notoriously hotheaded and talented Jedi of their time.Capable of holding her own against pirates, bounty hunters, and Sith Lords alike.Capable of retaining an element of compassion in a war-hardened galaxy.She was capable of failures, too.Capable of getting captured.Capable of being betrayed by one of her closest friends and not seeing it coming.Capable of dying.Capable of running away.Above all, though, she’d become capable of putting herself first. Going into hiding in a totalitarian government-controlled universe required this life skill. In her new life, she’d learned that selflessness and self-preservation were not mutually exclusive. It’s easier to care for others when you’re part of a far-removed, government-sponsored organization that has the means to help and a warm meal to return to when the fighting is over.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Series: Bonds Broken [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565923
Comments: 3
Kudos: 72





	I'll Strike My Own Torch

Ahsoka had always been capable. 

Capable of being a commander of the 501st at 14 years old. 

Capable of keeping up with Anakin Skywalker, one of the most notoriously hotheaded and talented Jedi of their time. 

Capable of holding her own against pirates, bounty hunters, and Sith Lords alike. 

Capable of retaining an element of compassion in a war-hardened galaxy. 

She was capable of failures, too. 

Capable of getting captured. 

Capable of being betrayed by one of her closest friends and not seeing it coming. 

Capable of dying. 

Capable of running away. 

Above all, though, she’d become capable of putting herself first. Going into hiding in a totalitarian government-controlled universe required this life skill. In her new life, she’d learned that selflessness and self-preservation were not mutually exclusive. It’s easier to care for others when you’re part of a far-removed, government-sponsored organization that has the means to help and a warm meal to return to when the fighting is over. 

It’s kind of hard to imagine how good you really have it until you give it up in a dramatic conclusion to that chapter of your life. 

So Ahsoka was a traveler, now. Not lost enough to be considered a refugee (she was also capable of taking care of herself), but not aggressive enough to be considered part of the Rebellion.

She helped when she could, of course. Specialty missions that required the skill set of one of those long-ago Jedi that she no longer associated herself with. Those in the Rebellion had a direct line to her if things got messy enough that they really needed her, but it was no longer her topmost priority. (Getting to keep tabs on Anakin’s kid was just a plus. She’d met the princess once, but that was all it had taken to sense her former Master’s power radiating off of her in droves). 

(When she’d heard the news of the second one she’d visited a Rebel base under the guise of wanting to trade her help on a smaller mission for some new pieces for her ship, but she’d realized immediately that their paths weren’t meant to cross). 

Then she’d heard of the Battle of Endor, and the subsequent celebration thrown on the moon. Of the mask of Darth Vader himself tossed into one of the fires. 

Her bond with Anakin had been broken for several years at that point, so she couldn’t just reach out and search for him, find out if he was still out there or if those rumors and whisperings had merit. 

So she traveled to Coruscant. 

It was different than she remembered. There was still a seedy underbelly and penthouses for the wealthiest to overlook their purchased kingdom, but when was there not? When she landed her ship at the public landing pad and instructed the guard droid she’d purchased to keep watch and work on repairs while she was away, she couldn’t help but notice the changes. For the most part, they were small, but as someone who’d spent years calling this planet home, it was hard not to see. 

As she walked along the street —she was too cheap to hire a transport, whatever— she could see countless pieces of graffiti. Over every Imperial poster, emblem, or symbol. Over the storefronts of what she assumed were Imperial Sympathizing businesses, scorch marks and blaster shots mixed with artwork and tags that ranged from artistic to vulgar. It left an unsettling feeling in her stomach. 

Coruscant had always been dirty, at least the lower levels. And, as someone who’d lived as both an upper and lower citizen, she knew that better than most. But that was the appeal, in her opinion. It made the whole city feel real, unlike the seemingly untouchable and pristine planets, like Kamino or Naboo. But this was different. This aggression, even if just a backdrop, didn’t feel real. It felt like hatred and spite and all of the things she’d learned as a kid to never latch onto. 

She supposed she should support this movement. Something so anti-Imperial should be celebrated, especially since she was Rebellion-adjacent. But most of these looked fresh. They looked like they’d just recently been done. And, if the rumors of Palpatine and Vadar were true, and these really were the first days of an Empire-free Republic, then these weren’t acts of heroism and bravery, they were hatred and cowardice. With the knowledge that there was no bigger government figure to enact vengeance for these attacks, these had gone from courageous acts of defiance to hate-filled vigilante punishment. 

How many people died during these movements anti-Imperialism?

How many other planets had experienced such riots?

Maybe Ahsoka was more disconnected from the Rebellion than she’d thought. 

As she made her way through the streets, she felt tugs in her connection with the Force, more than she had on a long time. 

In her new life as a traveler, she’d grown up and away, disconnecting herself more and more from larger societies. In this time, she’d become more attuned to the ways of the Force than ever before. She’d been able to reach out farther, see more, and find abilities she’d never thought possible. 

Now, thrust into such a densely populated area, it felt like a tidal wave in her head. 

_ A young boy calling out for his father, lost in a busy market.  _

_ An old couple, holding each other in their arms and slowly dancing through their living space.  _

_ A girl discovering intoxicants for the first time with her friends.  _

_ A tooka trapped on a transport, waiting for its owner.  _

_ Waves of confusion and fear and hope and  _ what comes next _? _

_ Passion and love and hatred and joy and all the things she’d never gotten the chance to experience as a kid. _

Eventually, she made her way to the former Jedi Temple. 

The former Imperial Palace. 

Her former home.

In the wake of the supposed end to the Empire, make-shift guardrails had been placed around the site of where the proud building had once stood. She’d heard the chatter years ago about a local, Rebellion aided strike to destroy the palace, a show of strength and defiance against the Empire. It had been big news at the time, though controversy had also sparked over the destruction of such a historically important building. In the end, the Rebels had decided a still-standing site of the deaths of children was better left demolished, though no buildings had been constructed on it out of respect and remembrance. 

That didn’t stop the mourners, though. 

On the ground, littered by the podiums of the barricades were small items, memorabilia for those lost and not forgotten. Holopics of family members that had died in the massacre. Flowers for those that couldn’t afford to waste a holo. Small dolls and other toys for what she assumed were younglings and padawans slaughtered. She even saw a few lightsabers littering the ground, though she could feel the kyber crystals missing, or else they would have been long-gone, snatched up by eager vultures looking for a quick credit on the black market.

Getting over the barricade was easy enough. 

Well, physically, at least. Emotionally, it took something out of her. The last time she was here, she’d vowed never to come back. Even if it was a lifetime ago, it felt wrong to go back on her own word like this. Still, she pushed forward. 

It was the middle of the day, which meant there was little foot-traffic on Coruscant; and what little there was would have a hard time seeing through the blockade around the ashes of the temple. Still, she let herself slip into a state of invisibility, a trick she’d learned from her time as a not-quite-Jedi but not-quite-Sith. What she was about to do was a private event and the last thing she needed was some random passerby messing up her focus. 

She knelt on the ground, in the way she used to when she would try to meditate for hours, like a good Padawan. In front of her, she lay her lightsabers, the most dangerous end’s pointing diagonally towards each other, an arrow across the wide space. 

Already, she could feel herself getting pulled into the extra layer of timelessness that was the Force. From the corner of her eye, she could see hazy visions of former Masters moving about, young Knights meditating in their rooms, Padawans in the library working to better themselves, Master Yoda teaching a class of younglings to sharpen their senses, even a young Obi-Wan walking through the halls with who she assumed was his former Master. It was all still too vague, too unfocused. 

As she let the chaos of these memories slide into her peripheral senses, she reached into the small pouch on her waist and pulled out an old, long broken Commlink. It was a sentimental trinket, a relic of its time that would no longer work with the modern communication frequencies even if it hadn’t been smashed so many years ago, but she still carried it with her. 

So many memories were stored in such a silly device. Battle strategies and inside jokes and reminders they were alive and sorrow filled goodbyes. 

She placed it between the ends of her sabers. 

All at once the memories of the absent Temple slowed. Younglings happily chasing a stray Loth Cat looked like they were moving through a dense liquid and the blaster shot from a training droid crept forward in at a glacial pace. 

“Hey, Snips.”

She looked up and was almost surprised to see him standing in front of her, as if that hadn’t been the goal all along. Maybe it hadn’t been. Seeing him here, young as the day she’d left him, as she’d seen him the one time they’d talked since, meant that he was truly gone. That all the rumors and gossips were true. 

She didn’t know how to feel. 

“Hey, Skyguy.”

“You look different,” he smiled as he moved to kneel across from her and she can’t remember the last time she’d seen him happy. He looked so unburdened from the weight of the universe that she supposed he’d been carrying with him since he was nine. Why did it take dying to make him feel free of that responsibility?

“So do you,” she found herself saying because it was true. The last few times she’d seen him there was a shroud of darkness that hung off him like a cloak. He looked so much younger. 

“You must’ve come a long way to get here,” he commented offhandedly as he looked around, though she got a distinct feeling that he wasn’t just talking about the distance she had traveled. She  _ was _ different now, thanks in no small part to him. 

“So you’re dead.” It wasn’t a question. Not anymore. 

“No need to make it sound so final,” he laughed –when was the last time she’d heard him laugh?– and she didn’t know what to say. Was it even final? Clearly, he was still there, he was a part of the Force in a way she could only start to comprehend. If anything, he was more a part of the universe than he’d ever been. 

“It’s just not every day I get to talk to my old Master,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

“It could be,” he looked so wholehearted in that moment. He looked like he believed everything he was saying, “Ahsoka, I could teach you more now than I ever could have before.”

And Maker did she want to take him up on that. For a fleeting second of wishful thinking, all she wanted was her old life back. The comfort of a friend that she could keep up with, not the loneliness of her self-imposed isolation. 

But as she looked around, at the memories that were frozen in time, forever ingrained in this land, she realized that she didn’t want to be just another memory stuck in a loop.

In them, she saw who she had been. The eager children readily throwing themselves into a fight they had no business being in. The Jedi of her youth, who took it upon themselves to interfere with political issues. She saw the coldness that it left, the broken men that lay at the Order’s feet over and over, and she knew that this path could never welcome her again. 

She was different now, in more ways than just having lekku that brushed the floor when she sat and having lightsabers that glowed white instead of green. She’d seen the path of the Light and Dark and rejected both, all in an effort to remove herself from the teachings of her childhood. 

Ahsoka had always been capable, of both good and bad, and it really had taken decades for her to realize that things like that can exist together and it wasn’t the end of life as she knew it. 

She looked at Anakin, at her teacher and friend and enemy and everything else, and she thought of that day so many years ago when she’d been given the same choice, and how she’d hoped and prayed that he would make the same one and not leave her alone, and she came to the same conclusion.

“No. I’m not your student anymore.”

And he looked at her, with all of that joy that seemed so foreign on his face, and he said, “I know.”

* * *

  
  


In the next years that passed, as Ahsoka watched from the sidelines as the legend of the Skywalkers grew and the new Republic formed. She watched a universe thrust into chaos after a lifetime of tyranny, and how it grappled to pull itself together once again. She watched as the galactic Heroes of the Rebellion, Luke and Leia, righted the wrongs of their father. From Luke, a place for all the Force-sensitive children that never got a chance to survive under the Empire’s rule to learn and grow. From Leia, a continuation on Padme’s legacy, or spreading peace and diplomacy, though with a bit more fire than Ahsoka had seen in her mother. 

Ahsoka looked on as the galaxy changed without her, and she decided to let it. It wasn’t her problem anymore. She’d done what she could in the time she’d been given, and now it was her turn to just rest. To sit back and let the new generation of hot-headed younglings who thought they knew better than their teachers make their own mistakes. It was no longer her place to sort their messes out. 

The planet she now resided on was vast and full of life that left her alone enough to continue her work in the Force. Work that no Jedi would ever have attempted and no Sith would have ever had the patience for. Work that she wrote down, and maybe thought someone would find someday, but had no intention of delivering to anywhere in particular. Self-preservation, self prioritizing.

She still talks to Anakin, too. A Jedi would call her emotional for clinging to the past in such a way, not knowing that these matters had always been more complex than simply past or present. It was a good thing neither of them had ever followed the Jedi teachings closely in the first place. 

Others make themselves known to her, too. Master Yoda will come when he has something to say, which isn’t often but when he does she listens. Master Shaak Ti revealed herself to Ahsoka a few times, but they’ve always had a connection by being Torgruta and dual wielders. Master Plo Koon will sit with her every once in a while, which reminds her of when she was a child in that nostalgia-filled way. 

Obi-Wan accompanies Anakin sometimes, but it’s not as it once was. It could never be again. Once they were friends, yes, but there was a clear progression of Master and Padawan, a division that was scarcely breached, even as they did become more than just students and teachers. 

Now, though, they all meet as equals. While Anakin looks the way she remembers him, Obi-Wan seems anything but. He’s so much older and wiser than she could’ve ever imagined, and she can only imagine how strange of a group they must seem. A 20-some-year-old Jedi Knight, an elderly man in robes, and a local recluse who spends more time talking to ghosts than people. 

It reminds her of a folk-song she’d come across in her studies as a Padawan, one that must’ve been translated at least three times over. 

_ My light of the stars grows faint without you near me.  _

_ My heart drifts in the wind without its guiding hand. _

_ But to grow alone as a tree in the wild, is the kindest gift that ever can be given. _

_ Without you I light my own torch and burn. _

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think this is the end of this series. I still have a few ideas rolling around, though I don't know if they'll ever come to actually be posted. In the meantime, though, you can read my VERY self-indulgent Sk8r Boi AU, or follow me on Tumblr @ella-and-her-art for some Shitty Star Wars Drawings (tm)


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